


with a whimper (softly, softly)

by whiplash



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deaf Character, Domestic, Gen, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Quarantine, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplash/pseuds/whiplash
Summary: Life in quarantine:#1 They call from the hospital to cancel the operation (Ben/Callum)#2 Lexi sits on the floor, crying (Ben/Callum, Callum&Lexi)#3 “I’ll start the kettle,” Callum announces. “There might even be some good biscuits left.” (Ben/Callum, Lola, Lexi)
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway & Ben Mitchell & Lexi Pearce, Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

They call from the hospital to cancel the operation.

Jay’s the one to tell him. Ben reads his lips and his chicken-scratch notes, but most of all he reads his friend’s face. He knows Jay’s face as well as his own, maybe even better, and the fear’s right there, in the twist of his lips and the crease of his forehead. As Jay speaks, he reaches out to put a hand on Ben’s wrist, squeezing lightly. 

“It’s… going… to be… alright,” he mouths, only his fingers feel cold and clammy. 

“I’m deaf,” Ben snaps. “Not dumb. Don’t fucking patronize me.” 

And he pulls his hand away, and he pushes to his feet, and it’s fight or flight. Adrenaline takes the place of blood in his veins, and his hands are clenched into fists, and Jay knows him just as well as Ben knows Jay and he’s on his feet too now, stepping back and out of swinging range. Ben gulps for air, and he feels that the noise must be loud and wet, must fill the room, but, of course, he hears nothing. Jay stares at him, his hands held out in front of him, palms first. 

Fight or flight, Ben thinks again, only he doesn’t want to hit Jay. Not really. He wants out, he wants away, and so he twists and storms out of the room. He has his hand on the door handle before he remembers. Quarantine. They’re not meant to leave. And Ben’s never been one to follow the rules for the sake of it, but he can’t go out there and then return, he can’t bring back illness to his family, he can’t- 

Fuck. He can’t leave. He wants to scream, but Lexi’s at home so he swallows down the sharp pain and pushes past Jay to his own bedroom. The curtains are still pulled shut, and the bed hasn’t been made, and Ben crawls under the duvet and pushes his head into Callum’s pillow. Now he screams, now he cries, and he just hopes the sound comes out muffled. 

xxx 

Someone tugs at the duvet, and cold air washes over Ben’s flushed face. Light spills into the room from the opened door and Ben blinks at the harshness of it. Callum’s kneeling by the side of the bed, frowning down at him. He has a tray with him, with a cup of tea and two pieces of toast. 

Callum’s hand brushes against the side of Ben’s arm, and Ben turns his attention to him. 

“Lexi,” Callum says, carefully spelling out her name, “made this. For you.” 

He points at the tea and the toast, then at Ben. 

“You missed lunch,” Callum continues, speaking slowly. “And supper.” 

Ben glances at the bedroom clock. It’s eight in the evening, and he’s not sure how that happened. He must have fallen asleep. Even so, he still feels wrecked. His entire body’s heavy, and his thoughts are sluggish grey-tinged things. He feels far away from it all, like maybe he’s still asleep. Like maybe none of what’s happening is even real. 

Callum’s hand feels real though. It’s big and warm as it wraps around Ben’s arm. It creates a connection between them, something undeniable, which anchors Ben to the here and now. He stares down at the tray, then reaches for the cup of milky tea. His hands shake, and he ends up using both hands to steady the cup. It tastes too sweet, but the first few sips wake his body, and he realizes that he’s thirsty. Hungry even. 

He empties the cup and eats a piece of toast. Butter runs down his fingers, and he licks it away. 

“I’m getting crumbs in the bed,” he says, brushing his clean hand over the sheets. “I hate crumbs in the bed. And I hate not hearing, and I hate being locked up, and I... I hate all of it. This entire year’s been nothing but shite. And it just keeps getting worse and worse.” 

What he feels, it’s not truly hatred though. More of a sort of numb despair. Only that’s not him, is it, and he doesn't know how to put words to _that_ feeling. 

There’s a rumble as Callum replies, and Ben looks up, but it’s too late. 

“Didn’t catch that,” he mutters, embarrassed over the admission. 

“I… love… you,” Callum says, using both words and hands to get the message across to Ben. “You’re… not… shite. We’re… not… shite.” 

His hands are clumsy, just a little better than Lexi’s eager gestures, and while his lips read ‘shite’, the sign he uses means ‘rubbish’. Even so, Ben feels something inside of him cracking open. And so he sets aside the tea and the toast, and he drags Callum into the bed, mindful of the man's ribs and his bruises as he settles him onto his back. Callum’s easy, his eyes warm and amused, as Ben tugs down first his jeans and then his underwear. He makes a deep rumbling noise as Ben swallows him down, and his hands come down to rest on Ben’s head. Not urging him on, not holding him off, just resting there, fingers curling over his neck and thumbs brushing over his forehead. 

Ben uses his tongue and his teeth, and he bobs up and down until he’s choking. He makes noises, he must, but for once he doesn’t have to feel ashamed of just how hungry and needy he sounds as he tries to fill himself up with Callum, as he pushes himself to take more and more, until Callum eases him back, tugging gently on his hair. 

When Callum comes, Ben swallows it all, licking his lips. Callum says something, and then pulls him up and their mouths collide in a kiss. They’re warm and sweaty, and Callum’s fumbling with Ben’s jeans, and it’s taking forever, and Ben must make another noise because Callum’s free hand covers his mouth. The door’s ajar, and they’re not alone. Ben opens his mouth to speak, only Callum takes it as an invitation and slips one, two, three fingers past Ben’s lips. 

Then Callum has his hand inside Ben’s underwear and Ben arches up from the mattress. Callum throws a heavy leg over his upper thighs to pin him in place and, in a terrible contrast, keep his touch against Ben's skin light and teasing. His fingers fill Ben’s mouth, as effective as a gag, and Ben sweats and moans and twists until Callum takes mercy on him. 

Then he falls back asleep shortly after, all wrapped up in Callum's long limbs.


	2. Chapter 2

Callum wakes to a dark room and Ben’s soft snores.

Between the two of them and the heavy winter duvet, it’s too warm, and he gently untangles himself from Ben. Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks about opening the window, just a crack, or maybe getting a glass of cold water. Or juice, if there’s any left. They still haven’t quite gotten the hang of quarantine shopping, and they keep ending up with either too much or too little of everything. Next to him, Ben makes an unhappy noise, and Callum reaches out to stroke his back. Ben’s t-shirt’s damp with sweat, the cotton sticking to his spine. Callum waits a few moments, his hand curling loosely over the back of Ben’s neck, and when it seems like the other man’s settled back into a deep sleep, he forces himself out of the bed to open the window. 

Outside the world’s grey, with empty streets and dark windows. There’s no moon. No stars. Just the dimmed streetlights. Callum shudders and pulls the curtains shut. He’s just about to head back to bed when he hears it. 

At first, he thinks it’s Ben, caught in another wordless nightmare, but no. The sound comes from outside their room, and he follows it, out into the house, and then further until he finds himself standing in front of Lexi’s room. It’s an explosion of pink, lit with a tiny night light. Callum’s dad had never let him leave the lights on, not even once, and Stuart had never quite understood why anyone would be afraid of the dark. There’s nothing there, he’d tell Callum, over and over, as Callum would crawl into his big brother’s bed. 

Here and now, Lexi sits on the floor, crying. The moment she spots Callum she holds her arms out, and without thinking he crosses the floor to pick her up into his arms. He’s assumed that she's just had a nightmare, and it’s first when she clings to him, burrowing her face into his neck, that he registers that she’s wet and smelly. 

“You have an accident?” he asks, trying to keep his voice gentle. 

She’s too old for it, surely, but the evidence is right there. At his question, she cries harder, and her arms tighten around his neck. She’s stronger than she looks, just like her dad. Callum rocks her slowly, smoothing down her hair with his free hand. It’s what he half-remembers people doing in movies and on the telly, and it feels right, offering her comfort. 

“Want me to wake your dad?” he offers. “Or would you rather have your mum?” 

Lola had been up late, he knows. He’d left her sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, a glass of wine in her hands, and her eyes glued to the telly. She's been watching the news, even though it’s just the same information, over and over for the umpteenth time. In the light of the telly, her face had been stark white with deep shadows under her eyes. She'd looked lonely and sad, and Callum had hurt for her. 

“No,” Lexi cries. “No.” 

“No?” Callum echoes. “You don’t want your mum or dad?” 

He feels stupid, half-witted, with no experience to draw on for what to do next. If he’d wet the bed as a kid, there would have been hell to pay. Even just thinking about it makes his shoulders hunch and his stomach roll. It’s not the same for Lexi though. Ben and Lola would never hurt her or make her feel bad. Not intentionally, at least. 

Exhaling slowly, he tries to come up with a plan. 

“You need to shower,” he tells her. “And we need to sort your bed out.” 

Lexi sniffs, then wipes her hand under her nose. Her face is all red and swollen, and her hair’s a tangled mess. He can see her thinking though, and so he waits. 

“Okay,” she finally says. “I can do that.” 

She wriggles until he puts her down, and then she goes through her drawers until she’s clutching a small pile of clothes. Now that there’s a plan she looks more like herself, small but determined. She has that in common with her dad too. She stops next to him, peering from Callum to the bed and then back again. 

“You’ll sort the bed?” she asks. 

Callum nods, and obediently strips the bed, and sorts out which soft toys will need washing. There’s a lot of them, and no matter what Lexi thinks, there’s no way that she’ll be able to keep this from her parents. He starts the washer and then washes himself off in the sink. He checks the time and finds that it’s gone five o’clock. Even so, they should get back to sleep. Keeping Lexi entertained while cooped up in the house has been hard enough as is. Callum doesn’t want to find out what it’s like to be locked up indoors with a sleep-deprived kid. 

He’s stood by the sink, drinking a glass of water, when Lexi finds him. She’s washed her hair, and it’s still wet, soaking through the back of her night-shirt. She sneaks her hand into Callum’s and leans against his leg. 

“I want my daddy now,” she says, and her voice is all wobbly again. 

“Alright,” Callum says, picking her up and settling her on his hip. “Let’s get you to your daddy.” 

She rests her wet head against his chest, and his new t-shirt gets soaked. When they get to the bed she crawls next to Ben and burrows into him. Ben stirs but doesn’t open his eyes, just pulls her close and curls himself around her like a shield. 

“Ssh,” he mumbles. “Ssh, sweetheart.” 

Callum bites his lip, then climbs in behind his lover and covers the three of them with the heavy duvet. The room’s cooler now, and outside the world’s starting to wake. Curled up in the cramped bed, Callum’s eyelids feel heavy, and his body sinks into the mattress. 

Tomorrow he’ll have to talk to Ben and Lola. The past few months have been hard on Lexi. Dennis’s death, and all the grief which came with that. Her daddy losing his hearing, and all the pain which had come with that loss. Jay and Lola falling out, which had led to yet another change in her life. And then the quarantine on top of that, with no school or playtime with her mates. Maybe tonight hadn’t been so strange. 

And maybe they could do more for her. Maybe… 

In between one thought and another, Callum falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

“-this isn’t a bloody hotel, you know?” Lola ends her rant.

She has tears in her eyes, and her face is a map of red and white. There’s a kitchen towel in her hands, the thin fabric wrung into a tight coil. Lexi’s stood in the doorway, eyes wide and a teddy clutched to her chest. Her eyes dart from Lola to Ben, and then she looks pleadingly at Callum. 

Callum follows her eyes to Ben. His eyes, locked on Lola’s mouth, have gone dark, and his lips have curled into something thin and hard. Whatever’s he’s about to say will be cutting. Cruel, even. He’ll regret it later, Callum knows that for a fact, but that won’t stop Ben for laying into her now. 

“Hey,” Callum blurts, following up the unheard words with a hand on Ben’s arm. When he still doesn’t get Ben’s attention, Callum steps between them. Ben clenches his jaw, storm clouds in his eyes as he stares up at Callum, but when Callum spells out Lexi’s name something in Ben softens. 

He turns his head, eyes sweeping the room until he finds her. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, and she runs to him as if summoned. 

She wraps herself around her father’s middle, like a baby koala. Across from them, Lola bites her lip, then looks away. She looks thin and worn, different somehow without her make-up and with her hair down around her shoulders. 

“I’ll start the kettle,” Callum announces. “There might even be some good biscuits left.” 

He takes Lola with him, leaving Ben with Lexi in the living room. The kitchen’s a real mess, breakfast plates stacked in the sink and toast crumbs still on the table. The trash hadn’t been taken out yet, and it’s starting to smell. Callum gets the cups down from the cupboard, starts the kettle and cracks the window open. 

“Sit down,” he urges Lola. “Have a biscuit?” 

He takes down the tin and passes her the stack of glossy magazines that had been balancing precariously on the kitchen counter for the past few days. Lola ignores the magazines but picks out a ginger nut and nibbles the corner. She fishes her out her phone and scrolls through Instagram. Her eyes are still wet though. Callum finds himself wishing things could have been different between her and Jay. Him being here, it would have made a difference, he thinks, not just for her but for Ben and Lexi as well. 

“Sorry,” he offers her, as he grabs a wet cloth and wipes down the table. “I didn’t realize we were being such pigs.” 

Lola’s breathing hitches, but she doesn’t answer. 

Callum scrubs first at a difficult tea stain, and then a stubborn smear of marmalade. Then the kettle whistles, so Callum sorts out the tea and brings out the milk. The fridge’s half empty, and he wonders if there’s any plan made for dinner. The questions already half-formed in his head before it hits him that this too is part of the problem. 

Lola isn’t their chef anymore than she’s their maid. 

xxx 

That evening they eat Portuguese pork sandwiches. 

Lexi falls asleep on the sofa, and Lola paints her toenails as Callum and Ben tackle the mountain of laundry that needs folding. Between the three of them, they’ve emptied a bottle of red and finished off the tin of broken biscuits. 

“Bet you’d look nice in these,” Ben snickers, dangling a pair of frilly thongs in front of Callum’s face. “Though, blue’s more your color, hm?” 

“Oi,” Lola complains, lobbing a pair of folded up socks at Ben’s head. “The last thing I need to think about right now is your boyfriend's hairy arse in my best underwear.” 

She makes a point of speaking slowly, keeping her face turned towards Ben after she’s gotten his attention. Earlier, when shouting at them, she’d forgotten, and her words had smattered out loud and fast like bullets. Ben couldn’t have caught more than her twisted face and a handful of hurtful words, and Callum thinks that maybe that’s something they’ll need to talk about later. It’s not fair on Ben, treating him like he can still hear them. 

“As if your skinny arse makes them better justice,” Ben counters with a smirk. “Now Callum though…” 

Callum tries, but fails, to imagine himself in a pair of knickers. 

Then he imagines Ben in a pair, and his face flushes hot.


End file.
